Semua Bab Engage To The Wrong Mafia Boss: Bab 121 - Bab 130

ELIZABETH POVThe door slammed so hard the walls shook. I stood in our Naples bedroom, chest heaving, anger burning through me like wildfire.Adam’s eyes met mine, dark and dangerous, like he was ready to break something or devour me. We’d been at each other’s throats for hours, words slicing deeper than blades.I blamed him for everything, Richard, Lily, his mother’s cold disdain, the lies that kept piling up. My hands trembled as I faced him, my heart pounding with rage and something else I didn’t want to admit.“You think I wanted this?” I yelled, voice raw. “You dragged me into your fucked-up world, Adam! Your family’s poison, and you let it spill all over me!”He turned, slow and deliberate, his jaw tight. “You’re not innocent, Elizabeth. You stayed. You chose me.” His voice was low, rough, like it could cut glass. It pissed me off, but my body stirred, betraying me.“I didn’t choose this!” I snapped, stepping closer, fists clenched. “You and your secrets, your mother treating me

ADAM’S POVI stood at the window of my study, watching the Naples rain batter the old marble fountain in the courtyard. The city always smelled like wet stone when it rained, that familiar, oppressive scent that clung to old walls and older memories.I didn’t let myself look too long. I turned away, forcing my thoughts back to the present, back to the folder Raphael had dropped on my desk an hour ago.The satellite photos were spread in a neat fan across the wood, each one showing that crumbling Sicilian vineyard in grainy black and white.An old manor sat in the center like a spider in its web, surrounded by vines, fences, outbuildings that could hide anything. I traced the lines with my eyes, trying to see the best approach, the worst choke points, the likeliest places to die.The door opened with no knock, and Raphael walked in. His dark coat was wet at the shoulders from the downpour, his boots leaving smears on the floor, but he didn’t care. Neither did I. His face told me enough

ELIZABETH’S POVI didn’t know what fear was until I stepped off the plane into the Sicilian night and felt it wrap around my throat like a noose.The air was hot and dry, heavy with the scent of diesel from the waiting convoy. The tarmac was cracked and old, a strip of darkness surrounded by scrubby fields. In the distance, the hills rose black against a fading sky, and somewhere out there was Richard.Adam’s men moved with brutal efficiency, unloading weapons, barking orders in Italian. The engines of the SUVs rumbled, headlights cutting through dust.I shouldn’t have been here.Adam had told me a hundred times I couldn’t come. That it was too dangerous.But I’d refused to stay behind.I watched him now as he stood by the lead SUV, backlit by the headlights. He was talking low and fast to Raphael, his face set in that cold, unmovable mask I hated and loved all at once.He was in command. He was a killer.And I was terrified for him.He turned and spotted me standing a few feet away.

The safehouse was nothing like our villa in Naples. It was cramped and old, hidden in the dusty back roads of southern Sicily. The walls were thick and smelled of mildew. Shutters stayed closed, even in the heat of the day, casting every room in dull shadows.I sat on the edge of a rickety chair in what passed for the kitchen, trying to hold it together. My clothes were stained with dust and sweat. My hair clung to my forehead. The silence pressed on me like a weight.Adam was in the next room with Raphael and a couple of his men, speaking in low, angry Italian. I could only catch snatches of it. Words like “bastardo” and “cacciare” and “ucciderlo.” Kill him. Hunt him.Richard.I shut my eyes, breathing too fast. My pulse roared in my ears.Richard had gotten away. Again.I could still see the twisted wreck of his car on the cliffside in my mind’s eye. The way Adam had cursed and ordered his men to check for the body. How they found nothing but blood on the rocks below.I wrapped my a

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the narrow hotel bed, her hands loosely clasped in her lap, staring at the scuffed tiles that covered the floor. The room smelled of bleach and stale cigarette smoke, nothing like the safety Adam insisted they had found here. Outside the shuttered window she could hear the distant rumble of traffic in Naples, muted like the world itself was trying not to disturb them. She tried to ignore the ache in her lower back and the strange tautness low in her belly. She wasn’t showing yet, not really, but she felt it. A heaviness, a promise. She pressed her palm there briefly and exhaled shakily. Adam didn’t know, not properly. She’d tried to tell him in snatches of terror and relief between fights and gunfire, but the words had never felt enough. There was never time. He kept saying he’d keep her safe. That he’d end this. But she was starting to believe there was no ending at all. The knock startled her so badly she nearly fell off the bed. She blinked rap